


No Secrets

by thefeastandthefast



Category: Hyena - Fandom, SBS Hyena, 하이에나
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefeastandthefast/pseuds/thefeastandthefast
Summary: "There is no action possible without a little acting."- George Eliot
Relationships: Jung Geumja/Yoon Heejae
Comments: 24
Kudos: 56





	No Secrets

_It’s go time_ , she thinks, pushing down the familiar jolt of adrenaline that crackles in her gut each time she walks into court or deals with some lowlife loan shark client who doesn’t take her seriously. That jolt guiding her usually makes it so that they _always_ take her seriously in the end.

When she was a girl, that adrenaline was tied to fear, but over time she has begun to crave it, because harnessing it, pushing through the fear, and riding it through to the other side always leads to an exhilarating _win_. Starting from that first, most _exhilarating_ time when she put that bastard away where he belonged.

Now, that jolt feels like power. _Her_ power.

But _this_ particular game- it had required a different technique from her usual.

This time, she had needed to tuck away her claws and wait for the prey to come to her.

And so she had waited, still and patient, as the pieces all moved into place.

It had seemed almost too easy. Oh, of course, she and Ji-eun had done their meticulous homework as always, but this charade had felt like falling into a deceptive cloud of feathers compared to handling the volatile small-time gangsters that crowded her client roster.

A little aloofness, a little peering doe-like from under wet bangs, some feminine clothes, a slight swing to her hips when she sauntered out of that high school reunion with him following behind- that’s all it had taken to have Song & Kim hot-shot Yoon Heejae looking at her like she was some marvel that had dropped out of the sky.

 _Men really were suckers_ , she’d thought.

She has a feeling that tonight was going to move things onto the next phase of her plan.

Geumja lets out a quick exhale and knocks.

The door opens.

Yoon Heejae, aproned, casual in black, hair boyishly flopping over his forehead.

“Ms. Kim.”

His voice warm as he just stands and gazes at her for a moment.

There’s admiration in that gaze, she notes smugly.

“Just in time. Come on in, you have to try this…”

Geumja follows him inside, shedding shoes and coat in the pristine hallway leading to his kitchen, all stainless steel and warm wood.

Expensive, like him.

He grabs a spoon from a drawer, dipping it into the bubbling pan, and blows on it as if readying it for a child. He lifts it to her lips. 

Geumja takes care to make her bite a dainty one.

_Damn, that is good._

“It’s… spice-forward.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You have something against flavor?”

“Only bland ones,” she says archly, plucking the spoon from him to dip in for another bite.

That hit just right. He grins, pleased with her answer.

“Sit. I’m almost done.”

She perches on one of the tall bar stools.

“I felt like making something Italian,” he says, head down as he tosses the pasta into the butter clam sauce expertly. “In honor of Donato Carrisi for bringing the beautiful Kim Heesun into my life.”

“You know it’s our two-month anniversary,” he prompts, seemingly without any trace of embarrassment at his words.

He makes a little joking moue, and puts a plate in front of her.

She appeases him with something soft and unmemorable, sweetens it with a little laugh.

_Two-month anniversary?_

_Is he going to celebrate every month?_

_Yoon Heejae, you absolute_ _fool._

Yet, she can’t help feel a bit of surprise, mixed with the disdain.

_At least the trial is set for the week before the three-month anniversary, so Heesun can retire before she has to do this song and dance again._

The thought turns suddenly; its bite bitter as an icy shot of soju, before she can stop herself.

_There will be no “again”._

He had insisted on celebrating their first month anniversary too, surprising her with VIP tickets to an exclusive exhibition preview of a contemporary glass artist that she had mentioned being interested in. Of course, she had mentioned her only because Ji-eun had confirmed through her secretary spy network that she was an artist he loved.

He had finally kissed her that evening after spending the entire day gazing at her face with soft eyes, as if bewitched, throwing not a single glance at the art. 

He had bent toward her slowly in the half-light of dusk and paused just before contact, a silent question in the air, but when she slid her fingers up his nape and into his hair in answer, he had extinguished the distance between their open mouths with a hunger that had left her breathless.

Going into this, Geumja had been prepared to deal with wandering, demanding hands and mouths. She had known the entitlement of these spoiled rich eligible bachelors whose women were decorative objects at best. She’d never been a woman fussy about sex and besides, winning this case would be her best chance to launch herself into the same orbit as the self-obsessed chaebol shitheads who would make her filthy rich enough to buy that damned building. Anyway, she hadn’t been at all averse to having a little fun being Kim Heesun either.

Yoon Heejae is exactly Jung Geumja’s type, with his long, toned body and the slight flaw of his mismatched eyes giving his patrician features a dark, languid edge that caught the eye in a way that more conventionally perfect faces didn’t. She had known this, because his face had been splashed all over the news during the White Scandal case. She’d even anticipated it, knowing it would make her victory over the arrogant bastard even sweeter in the end. Geumja had invested in the priciest set of hair extensions just for this eventuality, in case he had a penchant for hair pulling.

But it hadn’t turned out that way.

He always touched Heesun carefully, almost formally, guiding her down flights of stairs and around corners, palm warm and firm on the curve of her lower back but never longer than necessary.

Or he’d reach for her hand as they walked down the street, interlacing his fingers with hers, as if they were a couple of courting teenagers.

Before their first kiss at the one month mark, he had placed lingering but sweet kisses on her _cheeks_ after dates. It would have been almost chaste, if it wasn’t for the prickles of awareness whenever he turned the heat of his gaze on her. But he had held back for some reason, as if there was some kind of old-fashioned timeline he wanted to follow.

Most of all, what she hadn’t expected had been this- the fondness in his smile whenever she spoke and his habit of saying the most lavishly sentimental things.

It made Geumja want to perish with laughter and intense secondhand embarrassment.

The shock of realization, that he meant every word, had been unsettling.

Yoon Heejae was _shamelessly_ sincere, as if he were a child who had never, ever experienced loss before.

\---

Now, Geumja sits on his caramel leather couch with a glass of wine, legs tucked to the side, feigning the effects of a food coma as Yoon Heejae wipes down the table with a fastidiousness that surprises her a little.

Her mind races. The wine is dry and bracing.

 _Good_ \- she thinks, a little viciously _._ Still, a shot of soju would be of more help with what she can sense is coming next. Isn’t this what she has been anticipating? Inserting herself into his life until she can get her hands on evidence of Ha Chan Ho’s psychiatric unfitness for fatherhood? She can’t do that unless they stop with the fancy date nights out and transition to a more comfortably domestic situation so that she can “chance” upon his work.

And he’s hot; it certainly won’t be a chore.

She knows she is close to having him completely in the palm of her hand- so why then is the usual thrill of an imminent win annoyingly absent?

He finally flops himself down on the couch with a satisfied sigh, head thrown back against the cushion for a moment, all drama and bared neck.

His eyes open just a sliver, like a sleepy dragon and he smiles lazily.

“Can I have a sip?”

She holds the glass to his lips and he drinks the rest of her wine, not taking his eyes off of her face, as she resists the urge to meet them, focusing instead on the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows.

She sets her empty glass down, a soft but decisive clink. She reaches out and threads her fingers through his hair, passes lightly over his cheekbones, traces the straight bridge of his nose. He luxuriates in her touch like a cat, the corners of his mouth slowly curving up. She pushes the hair off his forehead, leans and presses a soft kiss between his brows and another on the tip of his nose. His hands come around to cradle her head and pull her in.

He loves this, she knows- to brush his lips against hers slow and soft, patiently teasing until she can’t bear another single moment of his tongue not being in her mouth. She is so lost in the sensation of devouring him she can’t quite figure out how she’s managed to end up straddling him, arms twined around his neck, his hardness against the inside of her thigh.

_Go time,_ she thinks _. Do it, Jung Geumja. It’s part of the plan._

“Do you have protection,” she asks, between the small bites of kisses she lays against his jaw.

He nods, reaching up to stroke her cheek, her hair, the backs of his fingers drawing out their passage down her velvet-clad spine, as if he can’t bear to stop touching her, before reaching into the drawer of the end table to retrieve a little foil packet. To her annoyance, he just lays it on the table and bends to nuzzle the hollow of her throat. “Not yet…” he whispers, “I want to remember every second of this. I need to taste you first, Heesun.” 

One hand goes down to the hem of her dress, gathering it up, the other on her shoulder, gently guiding her body down.

The unbearably sweet way he says that name - _Heesun_ \- cracks through Geumja’s brain like a whip.

She resists the press of his hand.

She reaches out for the condom, mind suddenly clear as crystal.

_No. You are not allowed to taste Heesun._

“Heejae,” she murmurs, coaxing, making quick work of his belt and zipper, ignoring his half protests, drawing him out, hard and ready. He pants a little at her touch, brow knit, mouth parted. He looks completely bewildered and so, so turned on.

She slides the thin sheath on him with delicacy.

“ _Right now_ , you just need to be inside me.”

She lifts her own skirt, pushing her silken underwear to the side and sinks down on him, deliciously easy, in one long stroke.

His strangled, overwhelmed groan fills her with a violent satisfaction.

She hadn’t realized how wet she was.

She hadn’t realized how much she had been aching or how much being filled with him stoked that ache.

Is that her or Heesun gasping as Yoon Heejae drives into her, his hands grasping the curve of her hips for more leverage?

Geumja finds that, all of sudden, she can’t stand the way he’s looking at her, all raw trust and tenderness under the half-lidded desire.

As she grinds down on him again and again, silent, relentless, she claps her hands over his eyes, palms tickled by the flutter of his lashes. She’s half expecting him to brush her hands away, but is met with a slow grin instead. Her relief makes her generous, enough to reward him with a soft kiss. His hands wander to the juncture of their rolling hips. His thumbs press into her lower belly, feeling the rhythm of himself inside her, before homing in on her clit, under the silky scrap of her underwear, and stroking her in maddening, persistent circles.

“Let me hear the sound of your voice,” he whispers, eyes still covered by her hands, insisting, with every unbearable stroke, building the pressure, “I _want_ to hear you.”

At her inexorable climax, cries finally escape her, a series of clipped sobs. His climax isn’t far behind, and he chases after her as she falls and falls and falls, covering her open mouth with his own. 

\---

Later, when they finally manage to pull themselves off the couch and shower

(Separately. Geumja can tell he is disappointed though he doesn’t complain. _Your poker face really needs work, Yoon Heejae._

She just doesn’t have any more in her tonight to playact and answer his inevitable questions about her scars with the stories she has prepared in advance.)

She wants to sleep.

Tomorrow morning, she can pull Kim Heesun together again.

She lies in his plush bed, in a thin cotton shirt suffused with his scent, staring at the light framed bathroom door and thinks tiredly, _congratulations, Jung Geumja. A terrific performance tonight._

The sound of the shower ( _with incredible water pressure_ ) turns off. She quickly turns onto her side and closes her eyes. A cloud of minty musk scented steam followed him as he slides in next to her. _Even his soap smells top shelf._

“Can I hold you?” he asks, voice low.

“Yes, please,” she says, trying to sound like a soft and sleepy Heesun.

He moves closer and tucks an arm into the ellipsis of her waist, drawing her back snugly against his bare, slightly damp chest, and presses gentle lips to the back of her neck. When she doesn’t move away, he slowly makes a path down her nape. In spite of her exhaustion, or maybe because of it, because she is too tired to resist the pleasure of the sensations, she allows herself to enjoy it.

As the feathery kisses alight at the top of her shoulder, Geumja snaps awake, realizing suddenly that he’d soon reach the mass of scars knotted further down. Cursing herself silently for letting her guard down- how could she have allowed herself to fall asleep at the wheel of this drifting car- she pulls away, turning abruptly to face him.

“Are you okay?” His furrowed brow, the concern in his face, as if she were some small, delicate forest creature makes Geumja feel a little stab of irrational anger. _Spare me the protective act_.

The silence grows a touch protracted as Geumja schools her face.

“Of course, you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not…”

That gives her an opening to pursue _. Just going to_ _put this off until I’m in the mood to deal with that damned look on his face._ She gives him a small rueful smile, Heesun-style. “It’s quite a long story.” She burrows into his arms so he wouldn’t see her face. “How about I promise to tell it to you another time? I’m beat.”

“Of course.” He exhales, a little uncertain. He plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Tell me whenever you’re ready. We have plenty of time, you and I.”

For a moment, Geumja finds it hard to reply. “Yes, we have plenty of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to tumblr user @drivingsideways33 for the edits and the encouragement.


End file.
